Chapter 16

CHAPTER16

“Imean no offence, Lady Emma, but must you have that hound with you at dinner?” Augusta said, from the head of the table.

Emma looked up from the puppy in her lap. “I did not want him running loose, Your Grace. After all, your son made it very clear that if sweet Snowy caused any destruction whatsoever, I would be liable, and I am fearful that he might crash into a priceless vase or chew up a Persian rug.”

“Snowy?” Augusta’s stern face softened into a grin.

“It is ironic,” Emma said, smiling in return.

Augusta shrugged. “Very well, then Snowy can stay in your lap. I would hate to be responsible for him ruining something expensive because I told you he could not remain at dinner.” She paused, then beckoned to one of the footmen who stood to attention around the dining room. “Fetch a few of those chicken feet from the kitchen, would you?”

The footman wrinkled his nose. “Chicken feet, Your Grace?”

“The first dog I ever had, when I was a girl, simply adored chicken feet. Goodness, I cherished that dog. I have not thought about her in years,” Augusta replied, her gaze faraway. “Snowy ought to have some dinner too, now that he is an official guest.”

The footman bowed his head. “At once, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, while Snowy twisted onto his back, falling asleep in the dip between her thighs.

Silas, sitting on Emma’s left, brought his wine glass to his lips. As he did so, he whispered, “what a lucky dog he is, having such a warm place to sleep. I cannot deny it; I am exceptionally jealous.”

“Are you also jealous of his belly rubs?” Emma whispered back, hiding her words behind a napkin as she pretended to dab her mouth.

“Oh, dear Emma, without doubt,” he purred, and though she had nothing in her mouth, she nearly choked.

From across the table, Nora gave her friend a pointed look, as if to ask,“are you well?”

Emma nodded, her cheeks red hot, her throat tight. She grabbed her own wine glass and took a deep gulp, murmuring, “Some bread went down the wrong way,” by way of explanation to the rest of the table. Marina and Nora, in particular, were watching her like a hawk.

“You are too tense,” Silas said out of the corner of his mouth. “I could help with that, if you like?”

His thigh brushed against hers and it took every shred of willpower she possessed not to jolt at the touch. Instead, grappling for her composure, she discreetly pivoted her lower half away from him, sitting at an angle.

His bright eyes shone with amusement. Silas merely spread his legs wider, until his knee rested against the soft flesh of her thigh. If she turned any more, she would have her back to him. The rest of the table would surely notice that.

Bastard.

A smile he did not deserve threatened to turn up the corners of her lips, but another gulp of wine held it back. And with her composure somewhat restored, she chose to shoot him a fleeting glare.

“If my presence stokes such a ferocity in you, you must consider how I feel,” Silas said, his voice low enough that only she could hear him.

She sniffed. “Must I?”

“You have created a friction between us, sweet Emma,” he murmured, his knee brushing her thigh.

Her breath when it came snagged in her throat. “I have?”

“Those pesky rules of yours,” he said. “One in particular—so strict. You do know that when you forbid something, you make it impossible to think of anything but the forbidden thing, do you not?”

Blood rushed in Emma’s ears, heat flaming in her cheeks, pulses of lightning shooting up and down her spine and dancing across her chest, spurring her heart to race faster and faster. She lowered her gaze, observing the rest of the table from beneath her eyelashes, wondering if they could hear every thud of that traitorous heart.

They must be able to. It must be written across my face. She pictured the scarlet shade of her cheeks, throbbing with her guilt. She should have been mortified and ashamed of what had happened by the lake, and the fact that she was not remotely remorseful surely made her as wretched as her father said she was.

“I will scream,” Emma warned.

Silas chuckled huskily. “I hope you do.” He leaned closer. “Very loudly.”

Her eyes shot wide, a sharp yelp of alarm slipping past her lips as something appeared over her shoulder: a silver dish of pallid chicken feet, placed directly on the table.

Augusta made a disapproving noise. “Let us not have them where everyone can see them, hmm? It will put us all off our next course.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The embarrassed footman took the dish and set it down on the empty chair to Emma’s right.

A lucky reprieve.

In her lap, Snowy stirred, his button nose sniffing eagerly. Using a napkin, she pinched the end of one of the chicken feet and held it out for the tiny puppy, who promptly attacked it with delighted relish, crunching and chewing until his happy sounds drowned out everything else, including the wayward thoughts that raced through Emma’s mind. Thoughts that no respectable lady ought to have.

“I am not jealous of that,” Silas whispered, but Emma ignored him.

For the rest of the night, for her own sake, she was going to have to keep ignoring him. Her sanity depended upon it.

* * *

“You wager boldly. I admire it, though others would call you foolish. No one who was playing alongside you, mind—they would encourage it,” Silas remarked, mesmerizing Emma as he made his cards appear and disappear with a flick of his wrist.

She shook off the enchantment. “Is that what you do when you are not being bothersome?”

“Do what?” He made the Queen of Hearts reappear.

“Perform feeble magic tricks.” She glanced up at him. “I would be marginally impressed if you removed your tailcoat. Anyone can see that you are hiding the cards in your sleeves.”

His lip quirked. “You wish for me to remove my garments? Very well, if you insist.”

He began to shrug his tailcoat from his shoulders and Emma half lurched across the small card table, hissing. “No! Stop that, at once!”

“Are you begging me to stop?”

She rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, Snowy curled up by her feet, fast asleep. “You are incorrigible.”

“Did you say ‘encouragable’? I apologize, it is quite loud in here,” he replied, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“That is not a word, as you well know.” Emma was saved from further back and forth by the return of Nora, who had ventured to the powder room and, unfortunately, left the opposite chair open for Silas to steal in the interim.

Nora frowned at him. “Your Grace, you appear to be in my chair.”

“Am I? Last I checked, all of these chairs belonged to me.” He lounged backward, clearly enjoying himself. “Indeed, I thought I would play a hand or two with my darling Emma, if you do not mind?”

There was no true request in his voice, and Nora knew it. As a woman of lesser station and as a guest in his residence, she could not refuse the duke. With a breathy mutter, she stalked to Emma’s side of the card table and stood over her, bracing her hands on the back of the chair.

“Now, the part you keep getting wrong is that you do not seem to have any understanding of the number one-and-twenty,” he said slyly, picking up the deck of cards.

He cut them, shuffled them, cut them again, and dealt two cards each, skimming them across the table with rather masterful skill. Not that Emma would allow herself to be impressed by what he could do with his hands, nor the talent of his fingers.

“I understand the game perfectly well,” Emma protested, while Nora literally breathed down her neck.

Silas shrugged. “Then, prepare to lose all of your pin money to me. I promise I shall buy you something… exciting with it.” He closed his eyes, his tongue running across his lower lip. “I am imagining the perfect gift, right this very moment.”

“You are stalling,” Emma shot back. “Anyone would think you are afraid to begin.”

His eyes snapped open, shadows dancing in the light of them. “For that remark, my darling, let us play blind.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must choose whether to stick with your two cards or whether to add a third card without looking at the first two. There is to be no peeking. I suspect you like to peek now and then,” he replied smoothly, turning in his chair, his long, muscular legs stretching out.

Emma sat up straighter. “A game of chance, then?”

“Always.” He flashed a wink. “We shall play best of three. If you lose, be warned, there will be consequences.”

Emma swallowed, taking a sip of her drink to dampen her dry throat. “Why must everything have debts and consequences with you? Why can we not play a simple, civilized game?”

“Because that is no fun,” he replied.

“But I have seen your trickery, Silas.” A thrill ran through her, for it was the first time she had used his given name among a room full of others. “You cannot be trusted to abide by the rules. You probably have an ace and a royal card already tucked up your sleeve.”

His eyes twinkled, his teeth nipping his lower lip in thought. “Miss Jessop, come and sit in the middle here and be our dealer, so I cannot be accused of cheating.” He did not take his eyes from Emma for a second. “If there is any deceit or deception, you may punish me as you see fit. And, of course, there is the matter of this⁠—”

Before Emma could stop him, he shrugged off his tailcoat and draped it over the back of his chair. No one in the sweltering drawing room batted an eyelid, as if they were accustomed to his peculiarities. Emma, however, was faced with the rather uncomfortable, unfairly delectable sight of him in just his waistcoat and shirt, the firelight behind him silhouetting those powerful arms and broad shoulders.

He rolled up his sleeves, exposing browned and corded forearms that flickered with muscle. “Miss Jessop, please deal us two fresh cards apiece.”

Nora obeyed, though she did not look too pleased about it.

“Will you stick, or will you chance a third card?” he asked, tracing his fingertips across his own cards, as though he could sense what they were by touch alone.

Emma glanced at Nora. “A third, please.”

Nora hesitated, and moved the card from the deck, sliding it in front of Emma.

“What of a fourth?” Silas tilted his head to one side, his focus unwavering. And as he grazed his teeth across his lower lip, she knew what he was thinking about. A means to intimidate her into making a mistake, no doubt.

Emma shrugged. “Why not? Nora, please give me a fourth.”

“Emma,” Nora whispered, pursing her lips. “I do not think that is wise.”

“Nevertheless, I must trust my instincts. A fourth, please.”

Nora reluctantly pushed a fourth card to Emma.

Silas clapped his hands together. “Fascinating,” he purred. “I shall remain at two.”

“You are that certain of your luck?” Emma remarked, her tone scathing.

Silas chuckled darkly. “It has not failed me yet. Indeed, it tends to bring me the very things I need, precisely when I need them.”

“Please, reveal your cards,” Nora said tremulously.

Silas waved a hand. “Ladies first.”

Her heart in her mouth, the drawing room going silent around her, Emma slowly began to turn over the four cards, one by one: the five of hearts, the five of clubs, the five of spades… amounting to five-and-ten. She touched the last card, dubious of her own luck.

With a flourish, she squeezed her eyes shut and flipped the last card over.

Nora gasped. “Four of a kind! That is twenty, Emma!”

Emma cracked an eye open. Sure enough, the five of diamonds peered up at her. She grinned at the sight. “Not too bad.”

“But will it be good enough?” Silas flicked his cards onto the table, where they skimmed to a halt, face-up.

Nora stifled a snort. “I believe that amounts to five, Your Grace.”

Emma could not believe it. He had a three of spades and a two of hearts. For once, his confidence had not been rewarded. For once, she had the upper hand. She could not deny that it felt glorious, and she did not doubt that her face showed it; she felt the glee in her smile, in her cheeks.

“Ah, I see what has happened,” Silas said, apparently unbothered by his loss. “I did not wish to win the hand. I wished to win this…” He plucked up the two of hearts and pressed his lips to it. “Two hearts, my darling. Yours and mine.”

Emma sat rigid in her chair, blushing furiously. It only worsened as he leaned across the card table and folded the two of hearts directly into her hand, smiling in satisfaction as he murmured, “you are my good fortune, Emma.”

“Is it not best of three?” Nora said curtly, glaring at the improper angle of Silas’s body across the table.

A different voice cut in, as different hands braced against the back of Emma’s chair. “Everyone is retiring to bed,” Marina said. “You shall have to continue this game of cards another time.”

Silas rocked back into his chair, arching an eyebrow. “No need, duchess.” He flashed her a grin that did not reach his eyes. “I shall let her have this victory. I got what I desired out of the deck.”

“Come now, Emma,” Marina said, her voice a warning, her hand falling onto Emma’s shoulder. “The ladies are going to the kitchens to have some warm milk before bed, while the gentlemen retire.”

Obediently, Emma followed, Marina taking hold of one arm, while Nora seized the other, as if she were being marched away, rather than going with them of her own volition.

She glanced back discreetly, and found Silas still sprawled across the chair, thighs spread, bare forearms bronzed by the firelight. He raised a hand in a wave, a sly wink guttering the glint in his eye for a moment.

Although she had won the game, and now had the power to punish him, it inexplicably did feel as if she had lost, somehow. And that he might seek to punish her anyway, in a manner she could not even imagine.